Yasuyuki Kasai - Dragon of the Mangroves

Suddenly Kasuga regained his hearing. Tomita’s shout pierced his ears.

“Hirono! Hirono!”

Tomita was raising Hirono in his arms behind Tada. Hirono was still breath-ing as blood bubbled up regularly from an incision on his breast. But his complexion had already gone white, like a wax doll face.

The shelling had completely blown off the ceiling of the bunker and not a trace remained. The sky overhead was hazy with smoke. Kasuga couldn’t figure out what had caused that. Was it a smoke shell, an incendiary, or the explosion of the mortar shell?

“Oh, shit! Hirono! Come on!”

Hearing Tomita holler, Kasuga again lost consciousness.

The Sumi rescue party had broken through Hill 306 and reached a flatland. But the tropical rainforest went on further. Countless rows of gigantic trees well over ten meters high stretched as far as the eye could see. The grandeur of the huge trunks lining both sides reminded Second Lieutenant Yoshihisa Sumi of a cloister of some solemn sanctuary. High up at the crown of the forest, branches and leaves interwove in every direction. And the ground was dappled with many thin rays getting through them.

Vines and bushes came out abruptly and gradually increased in density, probably something to do with how much sunshine they received. Then the whole scene turned into a jungle. Sometimes Sumi could see small settlements and farms, but he seldom saw human figures.

Pagodas stood everywhere throughout Burma, and Ramree Island was no exception. No matter how deep inside the island it might be, every village had its own pagoda, or stupa, enshrining Buddha’s ashes—although big, expensive ones were few. Local Buddhists had built every holy tower in such a splendid, elaborate manner that Sumi felt them ill-matched to that remote place. Getting a send-off from those towers shining under the blue sky, they went on the road leading into the next dark forest. Such a scene repeated itself time and again.

Sumi led the party, consulting with his compass and the map, and shortly they came across another hamlet. Humble rice paddies spread along a tricklet, and several small stilted houses were scattered along the ridges of the paddies. Sumi could hear bellows of cattle and sense the presence of someone. He stopped the party and called Pondgi and a first class private named Murakami together.

Murakami was a decent, clever man who could speak Burmese as fluently as Superior Private Yoshioka, who was waiting for their return in Uga.

“Go and ask the locals the way around the enemies. Be sure not to arouse suspicion,” Sumi told them.

Pondgi and Murakami left their rifles and trod on toward the houses. The rest of men hid in a grove nearby and waited. Although they disguised themselves, the big body of nine men was conspicuous in the remote farm. As a group, they always ran the risk of inviting the locals’ suspicions.

Dense forests had hindered them from seeing far away. It was a little hard to locate their present position, but Sumi estimated it at five kilometers due south of Ramree Town. Yanthitgyi, their current destination, lay about twenty kilometers north of the town. The shortest course was to pass through and then go due north. But the enemies might have utilized the town as a depot. If they dared to go straight through, he had better consider the possibility of skirmishes.

On the other hand, a detour into the hills was also available. He could head west for Payadgi Plain, then turn northward to thread through the forests. This course would make it possible for them to cross Payadgi-Ramree Road at its bot-tleneck in the hills. It was safer but would take much more time. He needed to choose which course they would take soon.

After a while, the two came back, and Pondgi had a long face. He looked at Sumi for some time, and didn’t say a word until Sumi grabbed him by the sleeve.

“There are plenty of Engli. It’s so bad, Master Sumi.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

Sumi turned to Murakami. “They say both the town and the road are full of enemies,” replied Murakami.

Sumi sighed and snapped, “Don’t repeat the same thing. Oh, come on! Give me a more specific report.”

Murakami straightened himself up and reported, “One of the locals said that when he went to the town yesterday, he saw many Engli with several tens of tanks and trucks there. My personal estimate, based on the conversation, is that the enemy should be about two-battalion strength. Maybe Indians. And I think the tanks were M3 middle, sir. The local told me more. They should be doing some extension work on Payadgi-Ramree Road.”

Sumi dropped his head. It was much more than expected. He felt foolish to think about engineering a fight against such an enemy. Going through Ramree Town was an impossible task.

Murakami continued, “The local says that if we go straight north along the footpath in the middle of the hamlet, we can get to the town. It’s six or seven kilometers away.”

This coincided with his estimate on the whole. Relieved a little, Sumi looked up to find Sergeant Shimizu with a serious look. “We’d better wait for night and force through the town. Maybe the enemies are off their guard because they are confident in their numbers,” Shimizu said in a decisive tone of voice. But Sumi rejected his opinion flatly.

“That plan won’t work. What do you do if they’re on their guard? We’ll be bugs to the flame on a summer night.”

He had already made up his mind. Only a detour would go well. He wouldn’t want his name added to a KIA list this early in the mission. Checking the map again, he chose to take the path to Payadgi. Shimizu laughed sardonically, showing open discontent, but the other soldiers quietly followed their commander.

Sumi and his men entered the jungle again after they had threaded along the paddies for some time. Wielding billhooks, they pushed through many bushes.

Before long, they managed to find a game trail taking them further into a deep forest. Interlocking branches cast dismal shadows on the ground there. The forest was dark and silent.

The trail merged in a meandering forestry road right around where the undergrowth had faded. It should be one of the roads descending to Payadgi Plain.

Sumi kept walking ahead of the party. While they cleared several ridges, he found their line extending too far from him. Some fatigued men couldn’t keep pace, despite the urging voice of Shimizu. Sumi stopped and turned back.

Having just gone over a small ridge, he couldn’t see the tail of his troop. He was missing five figures, including Shimizu.

Suddenly the sound of automatic rifle fire rang out. A moment later, the familiar cracks of their model thirty-eight 6.5-millimeter rifle followed. The reverberating din of gunfire disturbed and superseded the stillness of the forest.

“Hey! What’s the matter? Report!”

Sumi drew his Nambu fourteen and agilely cocked its slide to send the first cartridge into the chamber. Each soldier around him also jumped into the woods beside the road and held his rifle at the ready, hiding behind a nearby tree trunk or a stump. As soon as Sumi rushed to the ridge, Superior Private Morioka appeared from the opposite side and came slithering down the slope.

Sumi asked, “What happened?”

“They got Murakami!” Morioka said, gasping.

“What? Oh, shit!”

“Engli white men shot us from behind out of the blue. Now we are fighting them under Sarge’s command.”

“Hold, Morioka,” Sumi said. “How many are there?”

“Not so many. Maybe four or five, Lieutenant. All are hiding in this woods on our left. One of them shouted, ‘Japas-Azea,’ or something.”